


Scarring

by Cecret



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: And Michael is too but he can't handle it as well, Because the torture is not shown, Break-up recovery, But this fic is about her learning, Eleanor is thirsty, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hellstrop, Hurt/Comfort, I honestly don't know if I should put an Archive warning, I'm not really sure of what rating to use, Little side of rant over Eleanor's treatment of Chidi in seasons 3 and 4, Love Confessions, Magic Healing, Mutual Pining, Past Cheleanor, So much forking fluff, Torture, Unresolved Romatic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, don't force him to confront his feelings for you in a janet void, girl he broke up with his gf of two years six days ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecret/pseuds/Cecret
Summary: But if there was anyone she felt as close to as to open herself up again, someone who had ―quite literally― proven how good he was at dealing with her pain, it was him. No one knew her as well as he did, and perhaps no one knew him quite like she did, either. He knew a part of her died the moment she did, that in a way her life had begun right at the moment it ended, and that she became her best self when she had nothing to gain from it anymore.Eleanor Shellstrop had jealously guarded everything she had ever had in fear of losing it, and had to die to realize some things were actually worth the risk, if it meant truly seizing them.Maybe Michael was one of them.
Relationships: Michael (The Good Place) & Eleanor Shellstrop, Michael (The Good Place)/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Scarring

**Author's Note:**

> The credit for this idea goes to Rose <3 This prompt about Eleanor getting hurt in TBP sometime during the Bearimy the gang spends fixing the system ("Mondays, Am I Right?") resulted in both Ignite (archiveofourown.org/works/27611855) and this.  
> We share the HC that they mostly spent it in TBP, training demons and designing tests. 
> 
> The “soundtrack” for this fic (basically what I listened to while writing it, as usual) is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bZmART23ug. 
> 
> And as you know, non-native here, so let me know if you find any mistakes. I'm still learning and want to keep improving.
> 
> TW: Mentions of torture. But it's not a lot, I don't have talent for whump. I'm putting it here just in case.

“Eleanor? Where are you? I brought you the syllabus for the adv-”

_Fuck._

Michael’s voice turned into an incoherent mutter the moment she shut her bedroom door and dropped her head against it. No amount of ethics lessons could ever teach her demon buddy to knock on a door, or to wait until said knock was actually followed by some sort of response before making his way into a home that was not his own, so the best she could do was hope he did not waltz into her supposedly private space as freely as he did into her apartment.

Usually, she wouldn’t mind and, after spending a year as ‘roomies’ and one third of a Bearimy ―whatever the fuck that meant― practically living in each other’s places, she was pretty used to it. (Who was she kidding? This practically _was_ Michael’s home!). However, his current timing could not have been less fortunate. So she quickly scanned her room, searching for any piece of clothing that could cover her up and settled for a zip-up cotton jacket, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation the fabric, as soft as it was, left on her skin.

_Ouch, ouch, ouch!_

_Still, beats the fucking sweater. No way I’m trying that on again._

“I’m in my room, bud. Just give me a sec!”

“No worries. Everything okay?”

She tried to remember if Michael’s so-called ‘superior abilities’ involved mind-reading, and thank Upper Management they didn’t, but the concern in his voice clued her in on how urgent her tone must have been.

“Yeah! Of course! I’m just right out of the shower, getting dressed.”

_Care to help me?_

_I wish I was teasing._

“Oh, okay. No rush, I can wait.”

A curse slipped through her lips as she practically heard him sprawling on her couch. No one could blame him: it was their usual routine, and she did make herself comfortable on _his_ chair whenever she visited his office, but today it meant she was forced to kick him out. Unless he was just passing by to deliver the syllabus for Chidi’s new class ―Demon-oriented Ethics 102― which would only take a couple of minutes. And she could _totally_ handle two minutes of small talk before Michael had to go to one of his staff meetings. If the new and proud Teaching Assistant was still as excited to do his job as he had been when he got it, there was no reason he would ever skip one.

_What a teacher’s pet…_

_And when did dorky nerds become my type?_

But Michael leaving meant finally calling Janet to fix this, and somehow bribe or threaten her, even blackmail her if that’s what it took, so she wouldn’t tell him any of it.

And by the way, how could one possibly _bribe_ a Janet?

_One step at a time, Shellstrop._

After pinching her cheeks to conceal their paleness and checking herself on the mirror to make sure none of those… _things_ were visible (those she didn’t know what to call yet, how to make them go away or even if that was possible), she opened the door and made her way into the living room, forcing the biggest smile she could possibly muster.

“Hey, bud!”

He jumped out of the couch pretty much instantly.

“You’re hot.”

_Took you some time to admit it, Mikey._

But maybe Brittany wasn’t her only friend into the whole ‘sick Victorian’ aesthetic.

A smug smile brightened up her face as he began moving towards her, and she opened up her mouth to shoot him back another compliment (it was only fair), wondering about the sudden streak of candidness, when the back of his fingers landed firmly on her forehead.

“Just what I thought… 38.5° Celsius. That’s around 101.3° Fahrenheit. You do know the guy who stuck you guys with that crappy system is somewhere around here, right?” He gently moved her to the couch by her left forearm ― _well, that was good luck_ ― and sat down on top of her coffee table, inspecting her closely. “But how did you get a fever?”

Eleanor contained a sigh of relief when she finally rested her body someplace soft and scoffed, instead, wondering if she was still able to lie to him. 

“I do _not_ have a fever.”

“I can literally _see_ that your temperature has risen. I just measured it.”

_I guess that’s a hard ‘no’._

Maybe Michael couldn’t read minds, but those annoying nine dimensions were still too close to it.

“Are you coming down with something? I disinfected your apartments myself to make sure no Bad Place bugs were living here, but you guys could catch anything here. I should’ve been more careful, maybe Janet could have come up with a way to vaccine you, or-”

“Michael, I’m fine. I’m not coming down with anything.”

“Are you sure? You look a little tired.”

_Might be because I’m fucking exhausted._

Eleanor dropped her chin on her left hand and leaned in a little closer. “Hey, I know there’s no credit cards and no Reddit here, but I’m not sure you wanna mess with me, dude. This is basically your boarding school, and I bet I can totally find some pretty good blackmail material around here.”

He laughed lightly, holding her gaze with concern.

“I just worry…”

_Damn it._

_No._

_Not the puppy eyes! Argh, he could totally get into the Good Place pulling those off._

She sighed and clicked her tongue. “Fine… I might be a little tired. Vicky has been learning tap dancing and can’t, or _won’t_ understand us humans like to sleep at night. Worst neighbor ever.”

_I wish that part was a lie._

“And the fever?” His knees moved against hers and _no_ , she did not obsess over that for the following minute.

“Your magic thermometer must be broken.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, I told you, I just got out of the shower. Tahani said hot water would be good for my pores or whatever. Maybe I overdid it a little.”

_I’ve never taken a colder shower in my life. Or afterlife._

He squinted his eyes at her. “You couldn’t care less about your pores.”

“People change.” She shrugged. “Or _maybe_ it’s just reading how much of a snack I am. Yeah, that’s it! I’m metaphorically hot.”

“Eleanor-”

“What did you bring me?”

He hesitated for a moment, perhaps wondering how much he should push, and grabbed a manila folder by her side. “The syllabus for the advanced ethics course. We start next week. I thought you would like a heads-up of the timetable to prepare for Dancy’s class.” The moment she reached out to grab it, he drew it back. “Are you sure you’re okay giving this class, considering... you know?”

She snatched the folder out of his hands and placed it on her lap to read it. “For the thousandth time, yes. It’s been a long time now, Michael. Chidi and I can be in the same room.”

Fuck that, they had all had dinner together the night before. He had even laughed at her joke about the almost spider-free pizza. And if she was being honest, her attention kept shifting towards someone else throughout the night: her back leaning against the arm settled on the back of her seat, a smile borning at their wordless communication and eyes drifting to a hand close enough for her to hold.

She didn’t.

“Teach’s gonna need my help with this one, we both know it. If not, the demons are gonna ‘evaluate each situation in its particularities’ in a pretty convenient way… I know _I_ did.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t! Besides, I kinda owe it to my ol’ pal Dancy… For him, I can be a trashbag and still be perfect.”

She looked up at him, clutching the papers to her chest, and found him staring at her with an odd expression on his face, so warm and expressive Eleanor wondered if he would answer the burning question on the tip of her tongue with the words she wanted him to.

_Whatcha thinking, bud?_

But the moment she parted her lips, he pursed his, making her realize he still had his own awaiting question. 

“Are you sure-?”

“Yes! I’m fine. I don’t even know why you’re asking.”

Whether it was because he believed her or understood she wanted to be left alone, Michael slowly nodded and seemed to give up on asking more questions.

“If you say so… Make Janet call me if you need anything, I’ll be here ASAP.”

“Okay, but I won’t, because I’m fine... Although, maybe when you’re done, we could hang out? Do something, us two?”

Hopefully, Janet would have patched her up by that point and she would be _truly_ fine.

And no! It was not a date! That was ridiculous.

As if she would ever risk what they had now, that simple (yet quite complex), trusting (but not lacking on secrets), honest (and somehow, not fully solved) friendship. An almost, _almost_ perfect thing…

But if only-

“Sure.” Smiling, Michael turned his head briefly to the door and back to her. “See you later.”

His fingers brushed her right forearm when he began to stand and she couldn’t help but wince.

_Shit._

“What was that?” He sat back down instantly. “Eleanor, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, until she settled for the simplest answer. “I’m okay.”

Slowly and cautiously, two fingers approached her right arm and, the moment they barely grazed her skin, she felt the burn of an electrical shock pass from her body to his. 

“That’s far from okay… What happened to you?”

His voice was as soft as his gaze and as hard as his posture when she met his eyes. The pleading rise of his brow told her he asked the question half-knowing the answer already, almost begging to be proven wrong, and the fist curling at his side let her know her plan was royally fucked.

She grimaced, groaning. “Would you believe me if I told you I opened the fridge barefoot?”

“Yes, you always open the fridge barefoot. But you’re dead, so there’s no way it can cause this.” Michael swallowed and ran a hand through his face, somehow paling quicker than she ever did. “And if it is what I think it is, then that means _someone_ did this to you. And here, that someone could only be a- a-”

He cut himself off and Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“A demon, yeah, you can say it. Time to wrap up the drama, dude, okay? I’m serious, I’m fine. I just got into a tiny little fight, that’s all.”

“A _fight?”_

“It was more of a… heated debate? If that makes you feel any better.”

“I think you know it doesn’t.”

No longer caring to put up the façade, Eleanor threw her whole body against the back of the couch and stayed silent. The coolness of the leather cushions slightly soothed her heated skin and she wondered how she even thought hiding this from Michael was possible. Almost on cue, came the threat of a shudder she tried to conceal.

_I should’ve just told him to leave and come back later..._

“You’re not okay, are you?”

There was no need for her to see him to picture the expression on his face. The pain, guilt and anger were fully palpable through his voice, and she wasn’t even sure of the source of her headache anymore. There was no need for nine dimensions for her to read him.

_I should’ve told him to leave! Fuck, I ruined everything..._

“I will be. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do!”

Annoyed, she rubbed her forehead with her good hand, staring at the ceiling. “Dude, this is kinda like having a pretty messed up flu.” _And literal Hell burning on my side._ “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before and you know it. Go to your meeting. I was about to call Janet when you got here, so she could give me a hand. There’s no need for anyone to stay and nurse me. I can take care of myself just fine. I did it my whole life.”

“I know you can…” She felt his fingers stroking her wrist, inviting her to look down at his soft smile and the shrug of his shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you have to.”

 _Okay, so it’s dorky_ and _corny nerds._

_But that was kind of sweet._

So without giving the situation too much thought, Eleanor found herself nodding at the worried expression before her.

“Okay…”

He let go of her and, after adjusting the lapels of his jacket, pointed vaguely at her body.

“May I see?”

“Not gonna buy me dinner first?” All she got was a glare. “Bro, I’m just kidding!”

“Eleanor, please, it’s not the time for-”

“Like I would wait until you buy me dinner.”

She teased the zipper of her jacket and her cheeky smirk grew bigger when, after a second of still silence, his face turned completely red, eyes darting to the floor as a hand reached to the front of his shirt to smooth it down.

“I- I need to see what’s on your arm, the location of the wounds- the- the- how far they go, because if I know, that means- but I could call Janet if you prefer. She could-”

“Bud-”

“I didn’t mean to imply- What I’m saying is I apologize if it seemed like-”

“Michael-”

He placed an open palm before him and straightened his back. “I can assure you your well-being is my only motivation.”

_Okay. I’ll pretend not to feel offended by that._

She reached out to unzip her jacket once again, this time actually following through, but flinched the moment she moved her right shoulder to remove the sleeve. He held out his hand and motioned for her to stand up, holding her wrist when she did it too quickly and made herself dizzy. His calves hit her coffee table and, okay, maybe the nursing had some advantages because, not being sure of her affected areas, Michael moved his free hand to the back of her neck to keep her steady, pressing on the skin to draw her attention.

“Hey, easy there! Can I?”

“Sure.” _Please._ “Just try not to move my arm too much, it hurts a little when I do that.”

“I know… I’ll be careful.” His tone seemed to tell her he also knew it hurt quite more than just ‘a little’ and, if the brush of his fingertips against her collarbones was any indication of his gentleness, then she could let out the breath she did not know she was holding. Her eyes followed his hand as it lowered her left sleeve, palm arching around the curve of her forearm, inspecting, perhaps following traces of things she couldn’t even see.

“That side’s fine…”

“Okay, I’m just making sure of it. Sometimes, they hide things, they- we were taught to ‘sneak in’ in ways you guys don’t expect. It can take days for some things to show up, and I-” He paused, swallowing, and let his thumb caress the crook of her elbow. “I need to make sure you’ll be okay.”

She looked up to catch him blinking tears away from his eyes. “I _will_ be okay, Michael. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine… I should have-”

“This is not your fault.”

His now trembling hands moved cautiously to her right shoulder, as he began to slowly remove the fabric away from her skin. She looked down the moment he got a glimpse of the state of her shoulder and avoided his eyes when he moved behind her to take off the rest of the piece.

_Not exactly how I pictured him taking my clothes off._

She felt him stiffen behind her, for a single second, before two hands reached out to pull the sleeves down her wrists, at last leaving her in the navy blue tank top she was wearing when he arrived. “Who did this to you?”

_Was that, by any chance, a... rhetorical question?_

Even after he turned to face her again, his fingers struggling to let go of her left arm, she could still feel the remnants of his touch all over her skin, the breeze of his breathing on the thin hairs near her ear and his piercing gaze over her wounds. His eyes drifted down to the blood red branches spreading throughout her arm and the deep purple bruises shading her skin, lingering on the bright crimson spot on her shoulder, the one where _he_ had grabbed her, hissing those threats she would never allow to come true.

Michael was not supposed to see this. All she had ever wanted was to protect him.

He took off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose and looked away, the muscles on his jaw clenching with fury and fear.

She would have been worried for himq if he didn’t look kind of sexy all mad.

“Who did this to you?”

There it was again. The impossible question, the promise she had sworn herself to keep.

She avoided his eyes and lazily nodded at her own arm. “So, can you fix this or am I gonna live as Lady Lightning for the rest of eternity?”

“I can. Who did this to you?”

Still looking away, she tried to add some nonchalance to her tone, half-knowing that would never work on Michael.

“No one…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him shaking his head. “Can’t be. They must have lied to you, knowing I would eventually find out. Lichtenberg figures are only done by Storm Monsters. No One is one of the Cyclops.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know… Homer was pretty surprised when he got here. Pretty ironic, isn’t it?”

_Again, what?_

Her eyes met his and found a lousy attempt at a smile. If he was trying to lighten the mood, it didn’t seem to be working for either of them.

“Where did you put that medical kit Janet gave you when we first got here?”

“I was checking it before you came here and left it on the kitchen counter to go take a shower. It’s all in that stupid gibberish language y’all use here. You should've translated that for us, man.”

“I guess I didn’t want to think any of you would actually need it.” With a hand on her middle back, he started to guide her towards the kitchen. Perhaps it was a good thing she could dismiss the shiver his fingers sent down her spine as part of the fever.

“Dude, just translate all that shit for me, let me know if something’s gonna leave me in a coma or something and go to your meeting. I’ll be fine.”

Motioning for her to go into the kitchen, he scoffed. “I’m not going to the meeting.”

“You _are_. You never miss those!”

“Which is why it won’t do any harm if I don’t attend one.”

“I can do this on my own. You saw what I have, now you can tell me how to fix it and I’ll do it.” If he left now, she still had the chance to avoid more of his questions. That poor Cyclop guy wouldn’t have a pretty good time, but it was a fall she was willing to risk for her own demon buddy. She placed her good arm between him and the counter to slow him down. “You know, some of these things reach some not-so-appropriate places and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

He offered her a chair, surely reading the tiredness of her eyes, and she slumped down in it.

“You wouldn’t. And we can call Janet, or you can heal yourself if that’s what _you_ prefer, but it’s going to drain most of your energy and you’re not gonna be able to use anaesthesia. So it’s not gonna be pretty. And I’m gonna stay here either way, so I might as well make myself useful. It’s either this or I make dinner.”

“I actually like that idea.” He flashed her a smile, a bit shaded by the concern in his face, that vanished the moment he lowered his eyes to her arm, so she forced herself to smile as well, aided by the thought of Michael wearing an apron and making her shrimp scampi. “Why don’t you run me through this? Tell me what I have to do?”

His hand landed on her forehead again. “Would you let me lower your fever first? It keeps rising... If I didn’t know you, I’d be surprised you’re out of bed at all.”

“Can’t you give me a pill or something? So we can be done with this already?”

She ran her own hand through the aching muscles on her lower back and looked up when his shoes approached her, quickly taking the glass of water offered to her and downing it in two gulps, to then rest the crystal against her temples. Only when she finished, did she notice that ―in his other hand― Michael was holding a blister strip with blue and red pills.

_Oh._

“That’s some Matrix shit, huh?”

He laughed and pointed at the blue ones after refilling her glass with a wiggle of his index finger. “They’re temperature regulators. Take one of these for the fever. The red ones are for hypothermia.”

“Noted.”

A couple of seconds after downing her second glass, a strong shiver went through her entire body, taking most of her aches away as it passed. What she wasn’t expecting was the fact that, as she was no longer light-headed, the pain that radiated throughout the right side of her body turned more raw, and the spot on her shoulder felt like a puncture wound left on the depths of her flesh. She couldn't help but muffle a cry and Michael turned to face her, getting down on one knee and holding her hand.

“W-”

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

Peeking through the hand covering her face, she snorted when his annoyed eyes looked up at her, priding herself on knowing just how to make an ageless demon blush.

He looked into her eyes, which were brightening with tears.

 _I’m turning into a wuss._

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s fine… It’s called acting, some people cry when they get a proposal. you know? I never got one, let me play ‘pretend’ for a little.”

He stayed serious and kept his eyes firm on hers, observant, almost studying. “You’re allowed to 'not' feel okay, you know?”

Her smile faltered, for only a second, before she let out a light laugh.

“I know that…”

“Do you?”

“Yeah!”

Not daring to tear herself away from his gaze, she only felt his fingers slipping between hers.

“You’re allowed to be in pain. And I know you’re in pain right now. You don’t have to play ‘pretend’, not in front of me.”

_Hiding the used tissues under her blanket, she plastered on a fake smile and took another sip of her margarita. “I’m sorry, bud, I doubt I’ll be good company tonight.”_

_“Maybe you’re the one who needs good company...”_

_With a breath, she let the tears run down her face and nodded, letting herself be wrapped in the arms of that gigantic tree-dude who, after a good rant on the way back from her mother’s, at least tried to learn how to actually comfort his friends._

_“I miss him…”_

_“I know you do. Tell me, is there anything, anything I can do to help?”_

_Crying in front of somebody else was awful, but it could also feel really fucking freeing._

_“Just- just stay here for a moment. And better get yourself another shirt.”_

A thumb kept slowly tracing the back of her palm.

The lump in her throat eased with a gulp and she gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, I know.”

After a second of silent hesitation, he squeezed her hand and stood up, beginning to read the inscription on the bottles of medicine from Janet’s kit and placing a couple of them on top of the counter.

If she was being honest...

The flesh under the skin of her shoulder was burning.

“Michael?” This time she didn’t try to smile when he looked at her, or to hide the creasing her eyes did from the pain. “Thanks…”

His lips curled softly, in a barely perceptible way, but the muscles of his back relaxed as well. He closed the little box and put it away, leaving two bottles and two blisters at hand.

“This supposed ‘No One’ basically messed up your circulatory system. That explains the bruises, the red marks and your paleness. But don’t worry…”

She frowned.

“You can pull it off.”

_Now who’s the one blushing, Shellstrop?_

Her eyes followed him while he took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. 

_Oh, c’mon, you don’t even have a bow tie, dude! Not fair!_

“Technically, you-” He glanced at her and did a double take. “Is your fever starting to come back?”

“No! No, no, I’m fine. Must be the air... of the- the kitchen… You were saying?”

“Technically, you have a parasite. Except that parasite is a very small lightning. The branches on your arm are disrupted capillaries and the bruises are- well, that’s pretty straight-forward…”

His expression hardened and he began to walk towards her.

“Michael?”

“Bruises here are still bruises. They tell how forcefully they grabbed you.” She opened her mouth to speak but he cleared his throat and looked away. “Do you still want to patch yourself up?”

“Yeah, sure… Just walk me through this and go, I’ll be fine.”

He let out a little smirk and helped her up, placing a hand on her back and the other on her own. “That’s not what I asked you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned her body against the counter, her muscles no longer aching from the fever, but still exhausted and half of them scalding.

“What should I do?”

His eyes watched her so intently she wondered if there was a chance he could read how she actually felt, but she was telling the truth when she said she could deal with this alone, so she held his gaze with confidence and rested a hand on her hip. 

He shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. That was the whole _fucking_ plan…

Sighing resignedly, he pointed at the different medicines on top of her counter. “That’s for the bruises. That one’s to close those deeper internal wounds. The other will take care of your scars and will help you sleep, and those little pink ones are local anaesthesia, in case you change your mind, so you won’t feel the shocks when I touch you.”

“And if it’s local, why can’t I use it on myself?”

His hand hovered near her right shoulder and ended up settling on top of the counter, right next to her. Eleanor wondered if she should take a step back and decided not to when he spoke in a low voice, chasing the branching of her wounds with his eyes.

“This is not like those times you used lidocaine to treat some nasty cuts and rashes, Eleanor. It can be dangerous. Between the pain you're enduring and the work this requires from your _human_ body and brain, you could... I understand that you’re used to doing these things yourself, and I know how much you can handle. But I also know how badly these types of wounds hurt humans, and there’s a big chance you’ll pass out from the pain alone if Janet or I don’t sooth it soon.” His fingers stopped grazing her wrist when he looked up at her, surely seeing her own eyes warmly holding his and her parted lips and-

“Just… Just know you can trust me on this.”

_He’s so close I could just…_

He stepped back.

“Fine.” His eyes lifted from the kitchen floor, surprise arching his eyebrows. “Let’s do this. I mean, it’s gonna take longer if I do it, and you’re here already. Besides, how bad can it be? It’s not like you have to stitch me up… Right?”

After a deep, somewhat shaky breath, he offered her the pink pills with a small smile and she took one. “No, no, it’s less invasive than that. Advantages of being friends with an immortal who has a few tricks under his sleeve.”

“Please don’t do a magic trick-”

He frowned sadly, almost offended, in a way that _almost_ made her regret saying it. Almost.

"I wasn't going to... because I don't have my jacket on. And actually, I’m about to do something that’s closer to actual magic. How’s the area? Do you feel this?”

“Feel wh-” She looked down to find his hand resting on her right forearm. “Oh… I think we’re good to go.”

“Can you hop up on the counter, then? You’re too short for me to reach you.”

“Who’re you calling short? It’s not my fault you’re a tall-ass tree!”

After slapping his chest, she took a step back to settle on top of the counter to realize her right arm was not responding. Her eyes drifted to the chair by her side and then to her _inhumanly_ strong demon buddy.

 _I_ could _use the chair to climb up… But-_

“Hey, bud?” He faced her and she grabbed her right arm only to let it fall limp at her side. “Half of me is kinda useless right now. Mind giving me a hand? Or two?”

“Uh, sure…” Michael moved closer and hunched his back to reach her height.. “Put your arm around my neck, and I’ll- where should I..?”

With a cheeky smile (damn, being pain-free was the best!) she slipped her arm around him ―perhaps a bit too tightly― and let her voice get out in a whisper. “Anywhere you want…” 

She could sense the stuttering mumble before he even did it, so she rushed to keep talking.

“I mean… It’s not like I’m gonna feel it, so don’t worry about it.” 

Two hands gripped her waist and soon her feet stopped touching the floor. He placed her on top of the counter much faster than she would’ve liked. And those hands that barely lingered on her clothes were _definitely_ not good for keeping her temperature normal. But at least she got a kick out of lightly stroking his neck and taking a second to scan him up and down before letting him go.

“Thanks, man.”

“I- Uh... I’ll take care of your bruises first. Then we’ll close the deeper wounds, and I’ll have to suck the little lightning out…”

“You have to _what_ now?”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from smirking and caught him scratching his nose.

“I now realize that sounded odd, but it’s a figure of speech. My hands and probably some tweezers will do just fine.”

“Oh, right, of course…”

_Damn, that’s disappointing…_

_Well, it would be a waste of that smile, anyway. On the other hand, if the bastard had choked me-_

_Oh, for Christ’s sake, Eleanor! Can’t you keep your mind out of the gutter for a single minute?!_

He took one of the bottles of medicine by her side, pouring a healthy amount of a viscous, yellowish and glittery substance on one hand and holding up her arm with the other.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s for the bruises. Take a look.” He rubbed his thumb against one of the deep purple stains on her forearm, leaving a thin golden coat over her skin, and cleaned it with a damp piece of cloth, making the bruise vanish. “See? Actual magic…”

“C’mon, man. You gotta admit that’s way cooler than pulling fake coins out of people’s ears…”

“Maybe for you. Human magic takes skill, practice… Mastering that is what I’m interested in.”

After his little test, Michael smeared the skin around her shoulder with the cream, carefully avoiding the crimson spot, the only part of her arm she could slightly feel. She looked up at him while he worked, catching the way his eyes seemed to drop with every second he spent looking at her wounds.

“I’m sorry…” 

His fingers pressed a little harder on her bruises.

“Bud, you’re not the one who did this to me.”

“I’m the one who should’ve stopped it.”

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself… And it’s not my first time facing off a demon, so stop acting like I’m some newbie, okay?”

She softly punched his shoulder and got the briefest laugh out of him. 

“It’s not the same… I’ve never…” He took a deep breath and glanced at her. “I’m gonna need a description of them. Every detail you can remember.”

“Who?”

He began sliding the damp cloth down her forearm, leaving only the red marks beneath her skin. “I told you, it can’t be a Cyclop. I need to find them. Maybe I know him, or her, or them, and with your description I’ll know. If not, I can go asking around.”

_Fuck._

“There’s no need to take this any further, man. Just let it go, I’ll be fine.”

“You should be fine _now_. Shawn promised me nothing would happen to you, but I should’ve known better. I never should’ve brought you here. Maybe you guys should just go back to the neighborhood while I-”

She took his wrist the moment he reached out for the other bottle left on the counter.

“No! Fuck, no. We’re not leaving you here on your own.” He frowned at her, so she tried to sooth her tone of voice. “No way, dude. All of us agreed to help build the new Bad Place. We’re a team and you need us.”

“Then tell me who it was, so I can make sure-”

She glared at him seriously, not leaving much room for argument. “I’ll be dealing with him. I’ll take it straight to Gen if that’s what I should do.”

Frowning, he watched her with curiosity, making her realize she had slipped up.

“I’m not letting _him_ get away with a slap on the wrist, which is probably all that’s going to happen if we take this to Shawn or even Gen. You think they’re gonna care?”

“I don’t want you involved in this.” 

Any trace of a cover was quickly crumbling apart, so she might as well share a bit of the truth. As expected, he just looked at her as if her head had turned into a Picasso-like painting, before he nodded in the direction of her arm.

“I’m already involved. As I _should_ be. Do you really expect me to sit on the sidelines while someone’s set out to hurt you?” 

“All I’m asking you is to let _me_ deal with this. Let it go.”

“How can I ‘let it go’? If I do, this could happen again, to you or to the others-” His eyes suddenly widened, his hand moving to thread his own hair. “ _Has_ this happened before?”

“No! I’m telling you, it’s not that big of a deal, just- I’ll talk to Gen tomorrow. She always ends up caving when we go bother her.”

“Gen’s not going to retire him over this. But I’ll make sure he won’t touch another human again.”

“Michael, don’t-”

“Just tell me who it was.”

“No.”

“Why are you hiding this from me? I’m trying to do what I should’ve done from the beginning: keeping you safe from this place.”

She stayed silent, her jaw as set as her will, and stopped him from touching her.

“Eleanor-”

“Stop.”

He held his hands up and took a step back, eyes turning brighter by the second. “What if next time you don’t come back home?”

_Oh, fuck it._

She let out a dry laugh. “It’s funny, but I was thinking the same thing just now.”

“Then why won’t you let me-?”

“I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you, you _idiot_ _!”_

His mouth opened, but no words got out for a few seconds. “...What?”

“Fuck, Michael, don’t you get it? This is _exactly_ what he wanted.”

“What are you-”

“I’m the fucking bait, dude!”

He shifted the weight of his body from one foot to the other, head tilting to the side. The guy was either too dense to get the full picture or had too little self-preservation to care.

She feared it was the second one.

“He doesn’t care about me, or any of us, gross, little cockroaches…” Her hand reached out to pull him closer and stroked the way up his arm. “Look, I heard him and some others talking about you and I couldn’t… I just snapped. I just jumped at the first one I saw and- I don’t know exactly what they’re planning, but it sure doesn’t sound nice. I thought- I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was ease their path. He knew you would go all bonkers if you found out, he said-”

He moved even closer, and she had to look up to meet his eyes. “What did they say?”

_“We’ll teach that pathetic squid what happens when you get your dick wet on a human.”_

She shook her head. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“He told me I had to remember whose place this was, that I was nothing, that they could do anything to me and I was powerless. All types of crab that was supposed to intimidate me, but… It didn’t work. And it didn’t matter because I wasn’t the one they were after. He told me they had a ‘welcoming back’ present for you and trusted me to show you the ‘invite’. I guess you can put two and two together.” The hand now on his shoulder made its way to the open collar of his shirt, stealing a brush of his uncovered skin. He looked _really_ good since he let go of those bowties… “That’s why I didn’t want you to know. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

"Oh, Eleanor, I thought they had ambushed you or chased you down. You really..? Did you seriously pick a fight with a demon because of that?"

Oh, the way he was staring at her... Those big, bright eyes, those parted lips.

"Because of you? Hell yeah, you think I'd let some jackass threaten my best friend without him getting some punches thrown his way? No way, man."

He blinked. "Please tell me you're not being literal with the 'punches' part."

Her lips pursed. "Well, I only managed to get one before he turned the tables on me but, based on the blue goo down his nose, I'd say it was a pretty fucking good punch."

His mouth formed a little 'O' as he kept gazing at her and she wondered if he had truly leaned in or she had only imagined it.

"Wow... You'll never cease to amaze me. I mean, what you did was just-"

_Hot?_

Her lips curled in a slow smile.

"Reckless, irresponsible and completely stupid. But I have to admit... It was also impressive."

_Meh, I'll take it. He totally looks turned on so I think it counts._

Maybe with a bit of a nudge...

She tilted her head at him. "Aren't you jealous you're no longer the only demon I tried to get physical with?"

_Oops! (Wink)._

He didn't seem to listen, still processing the information. Perhaps picturing the scene?

_Damn, it he doesn't stop gaping at me, flies will go live in his mouth._

She poked his chest to snap him out of his trance. "I mean, you shouldn't. You still hold the privilege of being the only one I tried to stab."

He cleared his throat. " _Tried_ being the key word." 

"Well, I wasn't expecting that one of your nine dimensions would let you smell metal."

He smiled and looked down, his silly grin vanishing the moment he set eyes on her shoulder again, so she started drawing soothing little circles on his chest. 

"As impressive as it sounds, you shouldn't be the one paying for my choices. And you shouldn't be worrying about me, either. Much less putting yourself at risk for someone like me. I appreciate what you did, no one's ever- but I'm not worth your well-being."

Four fingers crawled up to his collarbone and she felt herself smiling. “Hey, you’re not the only one who might wanna take care of someone…”

He laughed lightly and maybe ―just maybe― let his eyes drift down to her lips, so she curled her hand around his neck.

“There’s a difference, though… I’m not that sure you can take care of yourself. You’ve got some pretty self-destructive tendencies going on, dude. Maybe you shouldn’t go around so many suns unsupervised.”

“Well, next time I have to take some paperwork up there, I’ll bring you with me. How does that sound?”

She nodded, feelings his legs slightly pressing against her knees and her fingers aching from the desire to push him down to her. “Sounds good…”

Just a little bit of pressure and-

 _“Just because I have a hard time making decisions, it doesn’t mean I don’t_ want _to make them. Sometimes, all I need is some time to think, to make sure it’s the right call. And I can’t help feeling like I didn’t have that chance with us…_

_“Chidi-”_

_“I’m sorry, but setting me up with Simone was a step too far.”_

Her hand disentangled itself from the fabric of his shirt and she looked down at the medicine spread around the counter. Michael cleared his throat and took the second bottle.

“I should probably… Keep working on this.”

She sent him a weak smile and tried to flatten the tension rising in the air with a cheery tone of voice. “So what’s next?”

“This-” He lifted the little bottle and opened it up to make her smell it. A fresh mixture of mint, honey and coconut reached her nose, all contained in what seemed to be a much thinner liquid than the first. “Is some sort of oil that helps with cicatrization. It repairs your tissues or, at least, speeds up that process. I can’t tell you you’re not going to feel anything with this, because I’m gonna have to push harder against your skin to make sure I reach some deeper layers, but you shouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Just let me know if you’re in any pain or if you want me to stop.”

“Sure.” She nodded when he tried to hold her wrist and watched him as he inspected her arm from up close.

“I should probably start here, where the wounds are less severe, and work my way up to your shoulder.”

She suddenly remembered her own image on the reflection of her bathroom mirror the moment she had checked herself to know just how far the lesions extended, but decided to keep quiet. Michael oiled up his hands and began applying pressure over the underside of her arm.

“Eleanor?” 

“Yep?”

“If you tell me, I promise I won’t be careless... I’ll talk to Shawn, I’ll talk to Gen, I’ll take the handful of demons I trust with me, I just- I’ll do anything you ask me, and everything I can to be safe. But you have to understand I need to make sure you guys aren’t at risk here.”

After her second of hesitation, he gave her a nod accepting her silent request, and she took a deep breath, offering herself one last moment of pondering.

“His name was Adrian. He said ‘the boys by the sewer missed you’ and were waiting for you to go say ‘hi’.”

A thumb tickled the skin of her elbow. “Thank you. If you want to, we’ll talk to Shawn tomorrow. And then we'll see what's next. Together."

They stayed silent after that, and she watched him slowly care for her wounds, so gently it didn’t seem as if he was dealing with her very own blood. As his hand moved, it left behind it the trace of thin, dark red lines. The memory of bus trips as a young girl assaulted her. The striking white arc of his nails and those spots by his nail beds seemed to showcase a hint of the brightest part of the night, the one that kept her awake and in the right direction. 

The bus was the only place she could relax in. After a day at a school she never fit in ―nor tried to― and an evening at a bar where she had to pretend to be too many things she wasn’t, the ride back to her apartment was the most freeing part of her day. She could let go of the steering wheel, just for a moment.

She could rest.

Eleanor looked at his hands, venturing over to her forearm. 

To have two moons in each finger… So many universes bottled up in his memory, so many aeons she would never know.

And yet he seemed so… human.

It was hard to convince herself that it wasn’t the case. It seemed too easy to just forget about it, to believe he was just like her. Perhaps because, in all the ways that it mattered, he was. And the rest was just the landscape, the fuzzy background they could so often lose themselves in. Except these moons weren’t chasing her as she ran away to a lonely apartment. He had always been there, and they had promised they would always have each other's backs after a few mistakes were made.

_“I can’t just not trust you. Ever again…”_

But she was still chasing _something_ …

_“No, no, no! You’re not a bad person, Eleanor… You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. We all make mistakes. We’re humans. It’s why they put erasers on the end of pencils... I just need this. And from what I’ve seen after coming back, I think you need this, too.”.._

Erasers on the end of pencils…

_She buried her face deep in his chest. “He was the only one who ever loved me… How am I gonna-?”_

_“Oh, c’mon! You know that’s not true.”_

_Slowly, she looked up at him, wondering if there was something in that file she wasn’t aware of, or something the pain of the moment didn’t let her see._

_“All your friends love you. We all think you’re amazing and unbelievable and- and…”_

_“And?”_

_He smiled and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “And very, very lovable.”_

She shifted her head to look at him, and found a quite confused expression on his face as he stared at her shoulder.

“Everything okay, bud?”

“Uh- Yeah, yeah. Should we call Janet?”

Feigning innocence, she frowned and concealed a little smirk. “Why?”

“It’s just that some of the- I can see the wounds branching down your… body, so maybe you would rather have Janet finish this, since she’s a-”

“Janet’s not a girl.”

He laughed lightly and met her eyes for only a quick moment before letting them go back to her shoulder, his ears acquiring a clear shade of pink. 

“I know, but you have similar… presentations.”

She snorted and took a second to study him. “Do _you_ want Janet to finish patching me up?”

“I want whatever you want.”

His rushed answer gave her the courage to lean in a little closer.

“I think we’ve been handling things pretty well on our own, don’t you? And maybe steering one immortal being away from his responsibilities is enough for one day. Unless… It’s not late for you to go to your meeting. Or if you just want to leave, that’s fine, too.”

He shook his head, shyly looking down at her. “The meeting is probably over by now. And no, I don’t.”

“I have a bra underneath this. But I should warn you that it’s the same one I had on yesterday and the day before-” _Okay, very un-sexy, Shellstrop_. “Today. The day before today. You know, what some people call yesterday.”

The smile he sent her told her he knew her well enough to know that she was lying, but also that he didn’t really mind. And maybe she shivered when his hands sneaked under her top, but his hands were cold and slippery from the oil and that also worked perfectly well as an excuse. Her eyes couldn’t leave his even when she felt ten fingers softly grazing the skin of her waist, exposing her to the warm air of the kitchen, and she could only nod the moment he asked her, whispering, if he could lift her right arm for her. 

She closed her eyes when the top went over her head and only opened them after feeling his arm smoothing down her messed up hair. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Her chin dropped as she took in her bare stomach. _Still a legit snack._ “Yep… Only if you are, though.”

He nodded, hand hovering near her bare torso. “I need you to turn so I can reach your side.”

While some fingers softly held her arm behind or in front of her, others made their way down her armpit, softly healing the wounds spreading all the way from her shoulder and pressing hard on the only thick red mark that was nearing her back. His hand kept lowering and lowering until it suddenly stilled without leaving her skin.

“Eleanor?”

Before he even asked, she unhooked her bra, leaving the wings hanging by her sides but still holding the cups against her with her good arm. The wounds branching down the side of her breast were fine but many, and a single finger was barely ghosting over her skin, but she still had to rest her head against the cupboards to not even consider pulling on his hair.

No one said anything. And none of them dared to look into each other’s eyes. But staring at the ceiling didn’t stop her from hearing the way they were breathing, and had no effect on the way his other hand was firmly holding her back.

She wondered if he even realized he was doing it and smiled.

Soon, his fingers dropped down her ribs, only to move up ―a bit trembling― to hook her bra. 

He laughed nervously and followed the curve of her waist with his thumb. “Sorry, I should’ve asked you to do it yourself.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind…”

His eyes met hers in the briefest of glances. “I’m almost done.”

_Too bad._

_I mean, this isn’t different from an oil massage. Just a bit... number._

Eleanor looked down to see him deal with the last mark that was still bright red, going over to the front of her stomach and ending right over the waistband of her shorts. She caught the way he briefly caressed her skin after finishing and had to stop herself from doing something awfully stupid.

“Once the anaesthesia wears out, you shouldn’t be in pain anymore. All I need to do now is take the little guy out. And this is going to hurt. Not a lot, but the pills can only do so much and this is basically a cumule of electricity biting down on your brachial artery.”

She blinked. “Well, that sounds… intense.”

He nodded, too serious for her liking, and searched the medical kit for a thin pair of tweezers.

“Hold or bite down on whatever you want. I’ll let you know when.”

_Don’t give me ide-_

“Holy _fuck!_ ” A wince escaped her, and she found herself digging her nails in his forearm. “Dude, how about that warning?”

“Oh, warnings are the worst for humans… One tells you you should relax and all you do is tense up. This way is faster and better for you.”

“Yeah, right. Not cool, man…” But she exhaled (maybe in a too telling manner) the moment his thumb began circling around her shoulder, the oils working their magic and soothing her pain. “Oh, but that is better. Yeah, that’s good…”

“Sorry for that... Here-” She opened her eyes to see him holding up a small jar with a very tiny lightning inside, and the last blister of pills. “In case you want to keep it. Makes for a good bedside lamp. And this will make your scars vanish by the morning. It’s also going to help you rest, whether or not Vicky decides to start tap dancing.”

She took a plain, white pill and held the jar on her lap, giving it a good look before meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Michael… For all this.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. It’s my fault you-”

“Shut that cakehole, you know it’s not.” She kicked his leg and gave him a shrug of her shoulders. “You know, maybe they were just jealous. Word’s gotten around that I could make a pretty good demon, and they thought they’d be idiots about it.”

“Maybe… You’re certainly better at it than I ever was. But I was never that good at anything, so…”

She tapped his wrist. “You’re something better than a good demon, bud.”

He stilled, frowning.

“You’re a good guy.”

A small, silent smile lightened up his face as he began searching for her lost tank top.

“A better angel than those Good Place twerps.”

He snorted, placing the piece of clothing next to her. She just ignored it.

“A better Architect than all these goons we’ve been trying to train.”

His finger rubbed the bridge of his nose. But as nervous as he seemed, the shine on his eyes told her he liked to hear those things. Perhaps, it helped him believe them... as he should.

“You have room for improvement with the guitar, I’m not gonna lie to you.”

Both laughed and he dared to meet her eyes, still silent.

“You never really failed, bud… I think you just succeeded in things you didn’t know you wanted yet.”

He walked closer and looked down at the jar she was holding, using his finger to play with the lightning. “That’s a nice way to look at it, but-”

“No ‘buts’.” She placed her hand on top of his. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

Eleanor’s eyes met a soft, if not unconvinced smile. He licked his lips before parting them slightly, as he pondered an answer.

“Who I am right now, everything I stand for and all the things I’ve done ―the good ones, that is… None of that would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you. If I changed, it is only because _you_ lit up something in me. And if I managed to save you and help a few others leave this miserable place, the one responsible for that is you. So be proud of yourself. I know I am.”

There was something so special about meaning that _much_ to him. It was not the first time he implied it, but she had never heard the words as clear and honest as now, his eyes boring into hers with such intensity and that expression-

That expression Michael always had in his face whenever he looked at her. She tried to pinpoint the moment it had been born and couldn’t say so, but perhaps an eternity had gone by since, and she had only recently started to notice it.

When did she start _seeing_ him?

“Why?”

She felt the warmth of his hand on hers, tracing circles with such care that she wondered how much could he see of her, how long had he watched her just like that and if there was a chance that it meant all the things she hoped it could. She thought of those fingers that could bring life to an entire universe, that could snap too many things ―too many beings― in and out of existence, that had so much power but were now solely focused on her. And maybe the thought of Michael using her skin as a canvas and her bones for blueprints reached her brain, and perhaps so did the image of morning light on her bare back and his lips closing against it, while he whispered to her all those words she was longing to hear from him.

_Ugh, when I did become such a goopy nerd?_

He frowned. “Why what?”

“...why me?”

Why did he choose her? Why was she the last piece of his puzzle? Why did she inspire his change? 

“A long time ago, when we were just starting to become friends, I told you I had hand-picked you for my experiment. That was a lie.” There was a small grimace darkening his face, the shadow of long-forgiven sins that still managed to cast themselves over a guilt Michael always carried with him. “I wanted to get you to skip class with me and go somewhere else, have fun together. I think that ‘me’ needed an excuse to tell you you were special, and didn’t know how to word it in an honest manner.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him looking up at her face and sighing.

“Newbies don’t get to choose their subjects. And most Architects don’t even read the files they get. But I did. And I memorized yours, I was… marveled by it. I wanted- This is going to sound awful, but I wanted to build the perfect design for _you_. I wanted to make something as clever as you were. I thought you were remarkable. And that was long before meeting you. That was the first glimpse I had of you. And for the past centuries, I’ve seen you become more and more wonderful, resourceful, intelligent, compassionate, kind… Just- You’re amazing, Eleanor. And you're so different from what first expected you. I mean that in the hightest of compliments. No file could ever fit you."

She felt herself swallow and met his eyes.

“But I can’t take responsibility for choosing you. Not only because I didn’t, but because I don’t think myself capable of orchestrating something so...” He stopped himself from talking any further with a little laugh. “I’ve never believed in a higher power, but I think someone led me to you. I can’t tell you why, though, because not even I know it.”

“Sounds pretty human of you.”

He smiled and looked away. She knew he loved to hear those things.

“So we’re kinda like soulmates to you?”

That seemed to take him by surprise, so Eleanor tried her best to not swallow her words before they even got out. 

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- That’s something I made up, you know that…” There was a glint of guilt in his eyes again, since he was probably thinking she was thinking of _him_ … maybe she was, but in the way one thinks about their first love, in the ones lost with the course of time.

_“And from what I’ve seen after coming back, I think you need this, too.”_

Erasers on the end of pencils…

Maybe the key was only not to make the same mistakes again.

“What you just said kinda sounded like a soulmate.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and put up a nonchalant posture, but the deep blush on his cheeks blew his cover. “That- I’m sorry, I guess I was-”

“But I would like that, you know? Even if there isn’t a higher power, even if it’s just luck and work that brought us where we are, then maybe… maybe we could choose it. Because I- Well, I want to choose you. And if, by any chance, you want to choose me back, I’m kinda hoping we can be soulmates. _‘Romantic stylez’_...”

_Damn..._

_Did I just afterlife-propose to Michael?_

There were other words, there were different ways to say the same thing but, somehow, it felt easier to put it down to some external force, to higher powers that pulled them together, than to say that the ways in which they were bounded had more to do with walls that had stopped being there a very long time ago. There were flimsy films of vulnerability few had managed to see, and admitting all she felt would be a russian doll of all the things they had been to each other over the past uncountable years.

(She said so literally. She still couldn’t comprehend how Jeremy Bearimy worked).

What she could understand was that they had spent an eternity together, and that she couldn’t imagine one without him by her side.

Some things were bets made to no one, just launched into the universe, virtual blood pacts of shedding skin and clothes in the least physical of ways, showing the wounds that had closed a long time ago, and letting someone admire the scarring left on bits of skin.

But if there was anyone she felt as close to as to open herself up again, someone who had ―quite literally― proven how good he was at dealing with her pain, it was him. No one knew her as well as he did, and perhaps no one knew him quite like she did, either. He knew a part of her died the moment she did, that in a way her life had begun right at the moment it ended, and that she became her best self when she had nothing to gain from it anymore.

Eleanor Shellstrop had jealously guarded everything she had ever had in fear of losing it, and had to die to realize some things were actually worth the risk, if it meant truly seizing them.

Maybe Michael was one of them.

So she reached out to hold his hand.

“Damn it, I suck at these things… You know that, you know me.” Better than anybody else, and he was still there. “But I don’t know how else to tell you how I feel about you. All I know is that I don’t wanna keep pretending this is all I want for us. So, if you want to, we could-”

She cut herself off to intertwine their fingers together, trying to control the beating of her heart with a deep breath. She was not sure of why her hands were trembling, but perhaps pouring her heart out to her best friend turned out to be harder than she first thought. Perhaps there were too many questions left unanswered, since she didn’t even know if this was _allowed_ ―as if that had ever stopped her before. Or maybe, it was because of his deep silence and the way his fingers were still loose around hers, and because there was a chance that she had read this all wrong.

A forced laugh was all her throat could muster before she let go of his hand. “You know, nevermind. I’m just being stupid. Let’s forget I said anything... It must be the fever doing the talk-”

This time, it was him who cut her off when his hands held up her face and he brushed his lips against hers. It didn’t last longer than a second, and he pulled back with his eyes still closed, only opening them after he took a step away from her. His hand massaged the back of his neck as he looked at her with a giddy smile.

“You no longer have a fever.”

She snorted and bit her lip. “Right…” 

He looked around in disbelief. “I just kissed you.”

_Fuck, he’s cute._

“Damn right you did.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have... I- Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to think that I was… waiting, that I was hoping that after some time, you would- Because I wasn’t. And I don’t mean to disrespect my friendship with you two, I really don’t, so if it this is going to-”

“Michael, Michael… I know all that, I know you. And I’m sure. I’ve been sure of this for a pretty long time.” She lifted her arm, the other one still numb _(oh fuck! How much longer?)_ , and motioned for him to come closer. “C’mere.”

She pulled him in for another kiss, closing her eyes the moment his face neared hers, feeling the brush of his nose against hers and showing him all the things she hadn’t told him yet. She sucked on his bottom lip, making him sigh, bit him with the passion of many awaiting years, and tasted every bit of skin she could reach from her position. Her hands buried themselves in his hair at the feeling of his fingers moving down her bare sides and, somehow, she felt it: it _fit._ It felt right- not just good ( andreally _fucking_ good), but right. Maybe that’s what it felt like to have a soulmate, maybe it had been a while since she had fallen this hard, or maybe this was akin to making a deal with the devil.

But she knew for sure this devil would do her no wrong.

Perhaps she had to stop looking for soulmates altogether, to stop leaving it out to the cosmos and just _trust_ that someone would be there if she promised to do the same. Right now, she could do nothing but surrender to the will of her own heart that was telling her where she belonged. And it suddenly became so easy to say it...

“I’m in love with you.”

She whispered the words between kisses, unable to move away from him, even for an instant, and felt his smile forming against hers. His hands closed around her back, still bare, and he pulled her closer to him, hugging her tightly.

“I love you.”

His fingers traced her entire spine as his lips moved away from her mouth, grazing her cheek, tasting her neck and kissing her collarbones until he rested his head on her now healed shoulder with a sigh.

“I have loved you for _so_ long… Maybe forever. And at times, I wondered if you- I didn’t want to assume, but lately... Oh, Eleanor! For Here’s sake, I’m so happy right now.”

She kissed his hair, grinning broadly. 

_Me, too._

Her hand sneaked under the collar of his shirt to stroke the back of his neck, moved through his chest, back and arms, relishing on the feeling of this newfound truth, giving in to the no-longer-secret wishes and desires each held in their soul. Both stayed there for a while, a timeless weight lifted from their shoulders. His fingers travelled, in a directionless path, all the way from her shoulders to her back, waist and stomach, circling around her belly button, counting up her ribs and exploring each and every vertebrae. Chasing down her curves, his hands dared to drag through the length of her thighs while his nose nuzzled her neck. All the restraint from the previous hours was gone, the passion and affection evident on hands, lips and teeth unwilling to leave each other. She wrapped her legs around his hips to keep him as close as possible, breathing in the smell of his cologne, and moved her hands down to his arms, inviting him to hold her tighter.

He was moving up for another kiss when she let out a yawn, so he pressed her lips against her forehead, instead.

“The last pill…”

She groaned and dropped her head against his. "Fuck… You didn't mention cockblocking being one of the side effects. Don’t you have the opposite? Kinda like the Matrix ones? ‘Wakes-you-up-so-you-can-sleep-with-your-new-boyfriend’ kind of pill?"

"After the day you've had, you do need to sleep…"

"You know I wasn't _actually_ talking about sleeping, right?" Skillfully, she managed to undo a couple of the buttons of his shirt with a single hand, when the impulse of a new yawn came to her. 

He just raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Ugh, fine! I hate it when you're right."

She let her head fall on his shoulder as a calming sensation quickly took over her whole body.

"...Eleanor?"

"Huh…"

"Okay, I'm taking you to the bedroom before you start drooling on my shirt."

Michael slipped a hand through the back of her knees, keeping the other firm on her back, and lifted her up. She giggled and wrapped her working arm tight around his neck.

"You're _so_ enjoying this 'knight in shining armor' moment, you literal old soul."

"Hey, if anyone here has a shining armor, that's not me. You're the one who punched a literal demon to defend my honor."

She peppered in a series of kisses along his jaw before tightening her embrace around him. "Does that make you my very own Disney princess?"

"I'm fine with that..."

Eleanor fell silent right before they made their way into her bedroom, and took a moment to look at him when he sat down on the bed, still carrying her in his arms. Her eyes traced his features with curiosity and affection, all the warmth... all the _love_ , now so clear and transparent on his face. Had it always been that way? Holding his cheek firmly, she leaned in to place a slow kiss on his lips, trying to shut out the fears mumbling in her brain. And even though it was not technically possible, she still felt the slightest sting of pain on one of the scarring wounds of her side. 

Gulping, she pulled back and rested his forehead against his.

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"What if this doesn't work out?"

He let out a deep sigh and drifted one hand up and down her body, somehow managing to graze, soothingly, the exact spot by which her ribs were burning. "I love you. I'm always going to love you. And if we're actually soulmates, then I don't think the 'how' is gonna make a difference. Just… having you in my existence is enough for me. It always was. It always will be. Is that okay with you?"

She nodded, smiling, and took a shaky breath. "We'll try... And I think we're gonna do pretty great like this, my sexy honorary human. But as long as I get to keep you around, I think we're gonna be okay either way."

Her eyes stopped fighting the heaviness weighing down on her lids, and she climbed out of his lap to lay down under the covers on her side, letting her healing arm mostly exposed.

“You still owe me dinner…”

He cursed under his breath. “I should’ve thought of this sleeping pill thing much better than I did.”

“I better wake up to some shrimp scampi tomorrow.”

“You’re asking me… _that_ for breakfast?”

She laughed at his disgusted expression, half-knowing he would do it in a blink if she asked, and fixed her eyes on his. “I’m asking you to stay…” 

He smiled softly and, with a snap, turned his suit into a pyjama set before crawling to the empty side of the bed. The last thing she noticed before drifting off to sleep was the feeling of his hand coming to rest on her stomach and pulling her back against his chest, as his voice seemed to brush the air near her ear.

“Always…”

**Author's Note:**

> The kiss was loosely inspired by this gifset: https://roominthecastle.tumblr.com/post/182647223014/michael-x-eleanor-au-demons-are-not-allowed
> 
> And the idea of Eleanor hiding her wounds with clothing was inspired by a prompt from whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com that I haven't been able to find. But it's somewhere in that blog.
> 
> Oh and there are a few references to other shows.


End file.
